"I can still feel her," Evelyn whispered, staring at the now-quiet air where the Keeper had vanished. The scent of ash still clung to her skin, seeping into her thoughts, as if the past refused to let go. "It's like… she didn't leave completely. She's still here. Watching."
Her voice trembled at the end, barely audible beneath the echoing silence of the archive chamber. The torches lining the stone walls flickered as if stirred by an unseen breath. A faint chill crept across her skin, despite the warmth of the enclosed space.
Kael stepped forward slowly, his gaze never leaving her face. His hand reached out with gentle certainty, brushing a stray strand of hair from her cheek, his thumb lingering for a moment. "Because you stirred something ancient," he murmured, his voice low and steady. "Something that was never meant to wake. Something meant to remain buried."
His touch grounded her, but her heart still raced with the memory of the Keeper's voice, and the weight of Lysandra's sorrow that had echoed in her mind.
Seraphina stood nearby, arms folded tightly against her chest, her expression grim. "And now the past is bleeding into the present." Her violet eyes reflected a flicker of dread, but also resolve. "The Keeper should have never appeared here—not like this. She's a relic of forgotten realms, bound to memory and myth. For her to manifest in front of you…" she trailed off, shaking her head.
Evelyn looked down at the book in her hands—Lysandra's journal. Its cracked leather cover was oddly warm, pulsing faintly like it had a heartbeat of its own. As she clutched it tighter, she could swear the warmth spread up her arms, like veins of memory threading into her own.
She wasn't just holding a piece of the past. She was connected to it.
They stood in the hush of the archives for a long moment. Dust hung like glittering threads in the shafts of light slanting through the high stained-glass windows. Every sound was magnified: the soft crackle of a torch, the rustling of a page turning in the distance, the almost imperceptible hum of magic lingering in the stone.
Kael stepped closer, his hand now resting lightly on her shoulder. "What did you feel, Evelyn?" he asked, his voice quieter now, like he feared disturbing whatever fragile peace still clung to the room. "When the Keeper spoke to you… what did she show you?"
Evelyn's throat tightened. "It wasn't just images. It was emotion. It hit me like a wave—grief, betrayal, rage. Lysandra's pain… it's like it's been screaming through time, and now it's found a way to reach me."
Seraphina moved to the table, laying her hand on one of the aged tomes they had left open. "That's what the shard is doing. It's not just channeling memories—it's merging them. Making Evelyn a vessel."
"I'm not a vessel," Evelyn snapped, sharper than she intended. Her grip on the journal tightened. "I'm still me. I know who I am."
Kael's hand didn't flinch from her shoulder. "We know," he said gently. "But we need to understand what she wants. What you want. This journal—it might hold answers."
Seraphina looked between them. "We need to be careful. Lysandra was a queen—yes—but her descent wasn't just a fall. It was a choice. A pact. Something—or someone—whispered to her from the shadows long before she claimed the Obsidian Heart."
Evelyn's lips parted slightly as realization dawned. "And now that voice might be whispering again."
Seraphina nodded. "Exactly."
The air grew colder. The archive chamber seemed to shift around them, the shadows stretching just a little longer than they should. Evelyn opened the journal slowly, the pages crackling as if protesting the light after centuries of silence. The ink was dark and sharp, yet still vivid—like it had been written yesterday.
The first entry read:
"They said the crown was mine by right, but power doesn't come from blood—it comes from fear. And I will never be afraid again."
Evelyn stared at the words, feeling the sting behind them. "She was angry," she murmured. "And alone."
Kael moved beside her, peering down at the page. "It sounds like the beginning of her fall."
Seraphina's expression darkened. "And perhaps the key to preventing another."
Evelyn's hands trembled slightly as she turned the next page. The ink became more erratic, the handwriting angrier, more frantic.
"They call it corruption. I call it clarity. The Heart showed me what lies behind their smiles."
"She was slipping," Evelyn said quietly. "But it wasn't madness. It was pain."
Kael's brow furrowed. "Someone pushed her into this. Fed her darkness and called it strength."
The torches flickered violently for a moment. Evelyn froze. So did Seraphina. A cold breeze, impossible in a sealed chamber, brushed across their skin. The journal's pages fluttered.
And then Evelyn heard it—not aloud, but inside her mind. A voice.
"You see me now… don't you?"
She gasped and stepped back, the journal nearly falling from her hands.
"Evelyn?" Kael caught her before she stumbled. "What is it?"
She looked at them both, pale and wide-eyed. "She's not gone."
----
As Kael and Seraphina began whispering about their next move, Evelyn's surroundings blurred. A dull ringing filled her ears. The ground beneath her feet shifted.
And then she wasn't in the archives anymore.
She stood in a circular chamber, black stone walls lined with flickering torches. Heavy steps echoed behind her, and Evelyn turned—only to find herself staring not through her own eyes, but through Lysandra's.
A mirror in the chamber confirmed it—she was seeing through the Obsidian Queen's body.
Soldiers stood outside the door, banging fists against it. Panic surged in Lysandra's—no, Evelyn's—chest. A cradle rested in the center of the room, wrapped in lavender silk. A child's soft wail echoed like thunder in her ears.
"They come for her," a familiar voice spoke. Not from outside, but within.
Evelyn whirled to find herself face to face with the Keeper, no longer cloaked in shadows but wearing armor gleaming with obsidian filigree. She wasn't a phantom in this memory—she had been Lysandra's closest ally.
"You swore to protect her!" Lysandra shouted, voice cracking with emotion.
"I did," the Keeper replied. "But there are worse fates than death, Lysandra. Even for a queen."
The door behind them exploded inward, and Lysandra raised her hand, casting a desperate barrier as fire rained toward her.
Evelyn gasped and stumbled, falling hard onto the cold stone floor of the real archive.
"Evelyn!" Kael was at her side instantly, arms cradling her.
She panted, the memory clinging like soot to her thoughts. "I saw it. Lysandra's last moments with her daughter. The Keeper was there. She was part of it all."
Seraphina knelt beside them, her voice calm but urgent. "You're not just seeing her past. You're reliving it. The journal… it's amplifying the connection."
"I need to see it through," Evelyn whispered, steadying herself. "I need to know what happened to Amariel."
Kael helped her up, but his eyes were stormy with worry. "Then we need to go deeper. There may be more hidden here than just books."
----
Seraphina waved her hand toward the archive's western wall. "There's a spell here. A concealment enchantment—very old. But it's cracking."
Kael unsheathed his dagger and pricked his thumb, smearing blood across the stone. Runes flared to life, glowing deep red before shifting to violet.
With a soft rumble, part of the wall folded inward, revealing a narrow stairway descending into darkness.
"A secret vault," Seraphina murmured. "Used only by the royal bloodline."
"Or those they trusted most," Kael added.
Evelyn swallowed her fear and led the way, torch in hand. The stairwell seemed to spiral endlessly downward, air growing colder with each step. The journal pulsed against her chest, as though guiding her.
At the bottom, they found themselves in a circular chamber, vastly different from the archive above. Crystals embedded in the walls hummed with dark energy. At the center stood a pedestal, and upon it rested a shard—larger than the others Evelyn had seen.
It shimmered like obsidian but pulsed faintly with violet light.
"The Heartshard," Seraphina breathed. "This must be the source of the resonance."
Evelyn stepped closer, drawn in by its glow. Her breath hitched.
It was humming.
Not just with power—but with memories.
She reached for it instinctively—but Kael grabbed her wrist. "Wait."
A whisper curled through the chamber, and the torches lining the walls extinguished in unison.
A new presence had awakened.
----
From the shadows stepped a figure—tall, cloaked in ragged, enchanted robes. A mask of bone obscured his face, and a great, blackened blade dragged behind him, scraping across stone.
"Turn back," the guardian rasped, voice like sand grinding against steel. "This vault holds truths meant to remain buried."
Evelyn squared her shoulders. "We seek the truth of Lysandra's fall. Of her daughter."
"You seek pain," the guardian replied, raising the sword. "This chamber was sealed to keep memory from becoming prophecy."
Kael stepped in front of her, blade drawn. "You'll have to go through me."
The guardian lunged, and steel clashed with a deafening shriek. Kael met the strike, staggering under the brute force, but held his ground.
Seraphina raised both arms, muttering incantations. Vines of silver magic burst from the ground, attempting to restrain the guardian—but he sliced through them with ease.
"Memory is power," the guardian snarled. "And power corrupts!"
Evelyn, heart racing, realized the shard behind him pulsed brighter as the battle raged. It was reacting to her presence, calling to her.
She stepped forward, even as Kael shouted her name.